


Breathing in Dust

by Infini_noodle



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Depression, F/F, M/M, Multi, Post-Sburb, Reconciliation, Slow Burn, dirk and john are depressed idiots who are also in love but very slowly, its gonna be a possibly long one bois strap the fuck in
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-07 01:19:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12830271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Infini_noodle/pseuds/Infini_noodle
Summary: The game was won ten years ago and John Egbert still isn't happy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> no plans no rules we die like men

The game was won ten years ago.

John Egbert lies in his room, sun falling over his eyes, squinting up at the ceiling and trying to remember what he has to do this morning (and why he exists).

The game is won and the universe was born anew and it was everything they had ever wanted. Everything in John's house, from his pristine (and embarrassingly patterned) bunny rabbit blankets, to the big ol windows he can stick his head out of to feel the breeze almost knock his glasses off, to the glossy mahogany frame of the portrait on his father hanging proud in the living room.

Isn't that what John wanted in the beginning?

When he was thirteen. Shit, that was so long ago. So many years.

Yet John feels impossibly old, and like a helpless kid all at once.

He should be happy.

Sighing, he rolls over and reaches for his phone. There's no buzzing coming from it like there usually is from streams of news and announcements and drunken texts, which is almost uncanny. More lonely than anything else though.

He hates to do this.

\--ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 2:01--

EB: hey dave?

TG: wh

TG: oh

TG: hey dude whats hanging

EB: oh nothing much!

TG: same same

TG:

TG: actually thats a lie

TG: the kitchen is on fire

EB: what.

TG: dont tell karkat

EB: why is your kitchen on fire dave??

TG: i was making breakfast

EB: it is two in the afternoon.

TG: yeah well you just woke up too didnt you eggshit

TG: i was making karkat breakfast in bed like a loving doting husband

TG: and ok maybe i fucked up a measurement on two on pancakes

TG: and overfilled the pan with batter on accident

TG: the stove MAY have gotten pumped up two thousand degrees more than its supposed to

TG: its chill

TG: 

TG: dont tell karkat hell kill me after last time

EB: can't you turn back time so it never happens?

TG: thats not how time works

EB: haha, well good luck with that!

TG: yea im working on it eggboy

TG: what are u doin anyway

TG: calling me up at two in the afternoon like some kind of early bird

EB: huh? oh, i dunno!

EB: it just feels like a long time since we've talked is all

TG: huh

TG: yea

TG: how longs it been it feels like a while now that i think about it

EB: i am not sure!

TG: last time was

TG: a month ago almost

EB:

TG: 

TG: wow

EB: ...haha, well its good were talking now then!

TG: yea thats the spirit

TG: what the fuck why HAVENT i been talking to you

TG: hows it going in the ol egbert household

TG: is casey girl keeping you busy

EB: ...

EB: not much, actually.

EB: lately the house has felt

EB: really empty.

TG: aw what

TG: thats weird

TG: you have a whole kingdom to run dont you

EB: yeah i know! it IS weird.

EB: you would think that winning a life or death universe destroying/creating game would give me a few more things to do

TG: you could find casey

TG: everybody needs a little more casey in their lives

EB: i dont really want to get out of bed right now dave

TG: cmooooooooooooon

TG: get your ass up

TG: be a good father to your casey

TG: your lizard baby

TG: casey it up in that household

EB: i miss dad.

TG: oh

TG:

TG: im sorry dude

EB: its ok. you cant really do much about it.

TG: do you need to uh

TG: do the thing rose does

TG: talk about it

EB: i would rather not

TG: are you sure eggman

TG: i know ms lalonde psychiatrist in training can be a bit much but it sounds like a good idea even to me

TG: we could even have a good ol rap throwdown

TG: about our feelings

TG: a feeldown

EB: i will be ok, dave!

TG: aight

TG: wanna visit me and karkle later

TG: you can bring con air

TG: so he can be all angry and nubby about it

EB: maybe

TG: o fuck the linoleum is melting i gtg

EB: D:

TG: ill see u later eggman

TG: stay safe

TG: ok?

EB: good bye, dave!

\--turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 2:19--

John stares up at the ceiling.

 

Dirk narrows his eyes at his reflection in the mirror.

Damn bandages, damn burn wounds and damn faulty welding equipment. Damn it all. Fuck shit ass.

Ok, he’s got it out of his system.

(Fuck.)

Ok.

New robot models are always fun to work with or at least the closest it comes to fun for Dirk “Fun Is Prohibited By State Law" Strider. Of course, that’s excluding the ones that burst into fiery plumes of smoke and shrapnel upon activating. Like the model he’d just completed.

(He’d put extra effort into the horse carvings on the side and everything.)

(Ass.)

Now everything in the room smells like sulfur and explosions, which only sounds cool when you’re 25 feet away from the whole shitstorm and not standing directly in the blast zone.

Dirk did not also explode, thankfully, but he got a good few burns over his arms and singed his favorite tank top (aka the only one that hadn’t been subjected to fire treatment). He’s more upset about the shirt than anything else, honestly. And the fact that he has to fumble with bandages so that he doesn’t admit to himself he has no idea how to use them.

(How the fuck do you secure them? Fucking superglue?)

Of course he hasn’t spent the last sixteen years just leaving cuts out in the open because he has no idea how to fasten gauze.

Shut the fuck up.

At least they look cool wrapped up around his knuckles and fingers and shit, though it makes it pretty much impossible to bend them. Goddammit. That was his favorite shirt. He’s still not over that.

The game was won ten years ago, Dirk Strider is a god, and the universe still likes taking away his favorite things.

~~like his boyfriend~~

No. Stop having emotions. Emotions end now.

Pesterchum blinks. Just in time. Dirk sets down his sword and the hopeless tangle of bandages he’s accumulated.

(no he hasn’t been trying to cut them with his sword shut up shut the fuck up)

\--tipsyGnostalgic [TG] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] at 2:19--

TG: heyyyy dirk

TT: Not now.

TG: aw what??

TT: Not now, I said. I’m busy.

TG: >:P

TG: see that thats the visual rasberry of displeasure

TG: cant a gal talk to a pal for a few seconds before being booted out the door so u can work on ur horse porn

TG: what are u even busy with??

TG: robots?

TG: horse porn?

TG: robot horse porn?

TT: Robots.

TG: I KNEW IT

TG: did it explode

TG: like the other ones u keep pretending u threw out for not being cool enough so that u woudlnt have to admit u fucked up their wiring

TG: ,’:)

TT: ..

TG: ,’:)

TT: …………..

TG: ,’,’,’:)

TT: I am leaving.

TG: NO WAIT DONT GO YET U ASS

TT: I didn’t come into this chat to be mocked.

TG: ur in the wrong fuckin estate for that bucko

TG: say hi to callie at least

TT: Calliope’s there?

TG: YEA say hello!!

TG: hi dirk!

TT: Hello.

TG: ahdsfpsdpfsdfdsotop stealign my keyboarD !

TG: 11111111112rwerertoit3o888888888888

TG: .

TG: 01922iopiojpfuaCK

TT: Is this foreplay?

TG: spfoafsdfsf ok wesorted it out

TG: iff it starts with UU: its callie tying

TG: UU: typing*

TG: tas my girl !!!!

TG: UU: ^u^ ^u^

TT: Thanks for subjecting me to your saccharine shop of horrors. Can I go home now?

TG: u are home already!! u havent come out of there in like months

TT: Yes I have.

TG: no??? *i* haent seen u in months anyway

TT: Of course I’ve gone outside. You’re exaggerating like always.

TG: UU: i also do not recall seeing yoU oUtside, dirk! :U

TT: I’ll prove it.

TT:

TT: Oh.

TG: ooh?

TG: UU: oh?

TT: Look, I have a good explanation.

TT: I have been working on many important projects.

TG: oh my goD DIRK HAVE U REALLY BEEN INSIDE FOR TWO MONTHS

TG: NOT A FOOT OUTSIDE?

TG: NOT A FOOTSIE WOOTSIE

TT: Never use that word again.

TG: UU: what is going on, dirk??

TG: UU: roxy is laUghing?

TG: UU: i am confUsed!

TG: BABE DIRK LITERALLY IS SO MUCH OF A PROLAPSD ASSWIPE THAT HE DIDNT GO OUTSIDE FOR T W O M O N T H S

TT: Stop it.

TT: I have important projects.

TG: ITS HORSE PORN DIRK

TG: H O R S E P O R N

TG: its not *that* deep or important enough to hole urself up like a hibernating hignoramus

TT: It’s ignoramus.

TG: yea i know i just wanted them all to aliterate

TG: also u didnt deny it was horse porn

TT: Important projects.

TG: UU: not to interject, bUt i am confUsed!

TG: UU: why dirk’s state of hignoramUs hibernation is UnUsUal!

TG: UU: is it not normal for hUmans to stay inside for long periods of time? is it a cherUb thing only?

TG: well cally its not usually like too unusual?? bc were all inactive pieces of shit

TG: but two months is too long even for dirkstrap mchorseface

TG: UU: yoU shoUld perhaps work on that, dirk!

TT: I don’t need to work on anything, thank you.

TT: Except my robots.

TG: h

TT: No

TG: hor

TT: *It’s not horse porn Roxy.*

TG: UU: bUt it is bad for yoUr health maybe!

TG: yea and we havent seen u in a while :(

TT: You probably have more important things to do than spending time with me.

TG: aw no????? cmon dirky we lov u

TG: UU: DDD:

TT: What?

TG: ur being a sellf depreciative lil shit

TG: uh wait thats not a good thing to say to a self decpricating person

TG: a self depreciative lil spoon*

TG: UU: yes, please do not downplay yoUr importance, dirk!

TT: Hm.

TG: dont u neutrally yet displeasedly Hm. with correct punctuation and capitalization me dirk!! >:o

TG: are u ok?

TT: Yeah.

TG: dont lie okk

TG: i know u arent the best at like

TG: comunicating emotions an stuff when it comes to situations like this

TG: and im not attacing you or anything!! i know its hard too!

TG: but like for reals two months is p worrying

TG: u gotta go outside dude

TG: sniff the ground

TG: talk to flowers

TT: Is that what you do when you go outside?

TG: UU: occasionally!

TT: I would rather not delve into the depths of my hibernation-fueled brooding psyche at the moment.

TT: Preferably not ever, but Rose exists, so it’s got to come out sometime in the future.

TT: But I would bore you with my rambling Shangstspearian monologues. If you wanted to read 2113 lines of self-aggrandized moaning, you could just read Macbeth.

TG: wow tats a real specific refernece there

TG: have u been reading roses books again

TT: No but I wouldn’t be surprised if she planted it in my brain anyway.

TG: UU: have yoU been talking to anyone else, dirk? jane perhaps?

TT: Not really.

TG: UU: heavens, why not?

TT: I don’t know.

TT: I just feel like they have bigger goals. And kingdoms to run.

TT: The last thing I’d want to do is weigh them down with my utterly showstopping personality and amiability.

TT: Look at my enthusiasm.

TG: :(

TT: see?

TG: we should have a

TG: get togehter! a renuinion party!

TG: UU: together* reUnion*

TG: ty

TT: Don’t do big things like that just for me.

TG: who says it has to be a big thing??? visiting ur friends isnt a worldwide celebrted event

TT: Well, we’re gods and also the creators of this universe, so to its inhabitants it kind of is.

TG: lol becoming a god hasnt changed u much hasnt it

TG: itll be nice to see everyone again tho dont u think!

TT: 

TT: Yes. Yes it would.

TG: :D

TG: UU: ^u^

TT: Who allowed both of you to be this vilely adorable and saccharine in front of me?

TT: Thank you for organizing this.

TG: no prob bob its good for all of us

TT: My name is Dirk.

TG: UU: dirk**

TT: Thank you.

TG: itll be up and running tomorrow or smthin idk ill make a memo

TT: Understood.

TG: 

TG: were gonna invite jake too

TG: just letting u know

TT: Oh.

TT: Well, of course. He is also our friend.

TT: I need to go.

TG: byee

TG: uu: bye!!!

\--timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering tipsyGnostalgic [TG] at 2:22--

Dirk sighs, pulling his glasses off and rubbing his eyes. He hasn’t slept the last few nights.

Pesterchum dings one more time. Roxy sent him a Wikihow article on how to wrap bandages. Goddammit.

(He opens it anyway, though.)

It's been 10 years since the game was won, and Dirk Strider is gonna fuck this party up one way or another.

AA at 2:33 opened memo on board FRUITY RUMPUS ASSHOLE FACTORY.

AA: good morning everyone!

AA: well afternoon

AA: time of day nonwithstanding im here to announce the impromptu meetup at the maryalonde house

AA: planned mostly by roxy and dave actually

AA: with much assistance from jane and karkat to keep it from going up in flames like daves kitchen

TG: i am wounded

TG: i thought u were my friend megido

TG: looks like its a megiNO for me

CG: SHUT THE HELL UP STRIDER

CG: YOUR BREAKFAST SOUFFLÉ SKILLS ARE LACKING LETS FACE IT AND MOVE THE FUCK ON

AA: anyway!

AA: the party starts at four pm as sharp or dull as you wish to arrive

AA: please dress at least semi formally as to prevent a fashion meltdown from kanaya

AA: there will be food and music from our very own smooth jazz consort band :)

AA: hope to see you there! lethal weapons are prohibited on grounds.

TA: thii2 ii2 gonna 2uck

AA closed the memo.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the party goes just about as well as anyone expects, which is to say, flames. All-consuming flames.
> 
> John still isn't happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoo boy this is a *checks watch* month late i thought i would have it out wayy quicker but school really got in the way! sorry about that guys!
> 
> next chapter has no guarantee on when it'll be posted, but i'll try to space it so that i can upload quicker. thank you guys a lot for the comments and kudos :,)

John overdressed.

His best dress shirt (a t-shirt with a tuxedo print on it, baby blue), his best socks (blue socks) and his best shoes (sneakers that light up when stomped).

Also, he tried combing his hair. Keyword tried. That comb is never going to recover.

He even put on underwear for the occasion that doesn’t have goofy Goofy faces on it, in the event that someone tries to pants him. He has on his fedora-and-pipe ones instead. Like a professional.

They gather at Rose’s house, now Rose’s and Kanaya’s house, as Kanaya insists they call it. They’re married, after all, so it’s a joint ownership. The whole place has the gothic, fancy, elegant-but-not-too-elegant-so-your-eyes-die-every-time-they-open aesthetic. Pretty much the perfect party ground, especially since Dave’s house is the second best option (and their kitchen is still on fire.)

A consort in a pink-and-black striped bowtie and a neat little cravat offers John a drink. He takes it to be polite and watches as it scampers off, feet clacking in little turtle-tailored dress shoes.

“Did you put your consorts in those?” he asks Rose, who’s nursing a champagne glass.

“One’s consorts must reflect one’s estate.. and fashion sense,” she hums knowingly, taking a sip. She notices the concerned glance he shoots her. “It’s apple juice, John. Don’t worry.”

“Oh.” John grins. “Preparing for Dave, huh?”

“Indeed.”

“Where’s Kanaya?” He peers around curiously, gazing over the expanses of candlesticks and gothic decorations and wondering how they’re not a fire hazard.

Rose points towards the top of the nearby spiral staircase. “Over there, wrangling our fellow partygoers.” Indeed, he can see the outline of Kanaya’s horns over the banister, and faintly hear her chiding someone’s fashion choices of the night. There’s a loud raspberry immediately after, so he assumes it’s Sollux.

“Boy,” he intones nervously, scratching at the collar of his incredibly fancy t-shirt. “Everyone’s here, huh?”

Rose blinks. “Well, no. Only Sollux, Terezi, and Jade have arrived. It’s been just five minutes into the party, John.”

“I mean -- I mean like. Figuratively! Right now. Until everyone really gets here and it’s not really figurative anymore.” John makes a vague gesture with his glass and accidentally spills a bit on the carpet. “I’m really going to be... seeing everyone again.”

“Is it not nice?” Rose smiles warmly at him, eyes glinting pink in the dim light.

John grins nervously back. “Yeah…”

Suddenly the ceiling rushes forward as two hands come up behind John and yank him back by the shoulders. He shrieks in an extremely manly fashion as he crashes to the ground and there’s a familiar raspy cackling in his ear that makes him wrinkle his nose.

“H3Y TH3R3, 4SSB3RT HUM4N,” Terezi giggles, leaning over him to not quite meet his face. (Specifically she’s facing his left shoulder. But to point that out to a blind person would be rude.)

“Manners, Pyrope-troll,” Rose chides jokingly, amusement barely hidden in her voice. John scowls, sticking his tongue out at Terezi mostly because she can’t see it.

“Nice to see you too, you butt.”

“NO PROBL3M!” She sniffs and leans down, helping herself to a taste of John’s shirt despite his loud disgusted “EW”, smacking her lips contemplatively after like she’s sampling fine wine.

“BLU3B3RRY… AND YUMMY MINTY TOOTHP4ST3. YOU H4V3 GOOD T4ST3 1N F4BR1C, 3GGF4C3!!!!”” She cackles and gives him a hard slap on the shoulder. “L1T3R4LLY!”

John blehs at her and she blehs right back.

“Cease your blehpittude,” Rose tsks. She pauses. “Terezi… what are you wearing.”

“1T’S MY BUS1N3SS SU1T,” Terezi beams proudly, showing off rows of white teeth. “1T HAS TWO SH4D3S OF 3V3RY COLOR! 1N C4S3 1 G3T HUNGRY ON TH3 JOB.”

John has seen beanie babies more fashionable. “You look sort of like if my warhammer was a really gaudy quilt my nanna would make.”

“TH4NKS!”

Rose chuckles, then hums. “Terezi, you should run.”

Terezi blinks. “Why?”

“Kanaya’s coming.”

Terezi hisses SHHHHH1111T under her breath before scrambling to her feet and bolting. There's a sudden flashbang and a blur of movement that John assumes is Kanaya, because he can hear horrified (yet dignified) screaming and the brandishing of cloth and knitting needles.

Rose smiles proudly in their direction. “I got her those needles.”

“Buh wuh.” John rubs at his eyes to stop the black spots from dancing over them. “Wait are those the same ones that are demon powere--”

“OH MY GOD, COULD YOU GAUDY FUCKS NOT RUB YOUR GROSS GRUBBY HANDS OVER EACH OTHER IN THE HALLWAY. WE GET IT. YOU'RE IN A KISMESIS. CURB YOUR DAMN ADOLESCENTESQUE HORNINESS FOR A DAMN SECOND.”

John's face scrunches up on instinct, the wave of long-winded insults hitting with the force of a large brick. He grins. “Hey Karkat.”

“HEY FUCKING YOURSELF,” Karkat responds miserably. He gestures to himself. “LOOK AT ME. LOOK AT THIS. KANAYA PUT ME IN A FUCKING PARTY NAPKIN.”

“The correct term is kravat.”

“KRAVAT YOURSELF, YOU FUCKING CODSUCKER.”

“He’s been round Kanaya too long,” a familiar voice from behind John pipes up, the smirk in his voice audible. “Infected him with her fashion shit.”

John grins as Dave puts an arm around his shoulder, turning to face him. Dave is taller than he last saw; he was about the same height as John and now he towers over John by a good few inches. His suit is dark red and there’s a custom scratched record monogrammed onto the breast pocket.

“Cool fucking party, Rose,” he grins, candlelight glinting off his shades. (So fucking cool. John swoons a little. In a bromoerotic way, of course.)

“It’s only just begun, little brother.” (She ignores his loud groan of “I’M NOT YOUR LITTLE BROTHER, GOD”.) “Just wait till everyone gets here and dinner will be commencing.”

Karkat scowls at her, grumbling. “YOUR WIFE DID THIS TO ME.”

“My wife made you fashionable.”

“YOUR WIFE MADE ME INTO A FUCKING POTTED PLANT DECORATION.”

John and Dave give each other side glances in the way only bros can and stifle immature giggles.

A turtle carrying a tiny decorative bugle (“aww!” John coos) toddles in to announce dinner is being served in the dining hall. There's already loud shouting and what sounds like psionics and/or flamethrowers going off, so John assumes the other guests have arrived already. He looks to Dave.

Dave smoothly straightens his suede suit and strides forward with all the coolness a man of his caliber can muster. He runs headfirst into a massive gorgonian-styled statue that must've been impossible to see in the dark with sunglasses on.

There's a few seconds of silence.

Clearing his throat and acting like nothing happened, Dave drags a squawking Karkat behind him and disappears into the corridor, taking an alternate, statue-free path.

John glances to where Rose was, but she's disappeared in only the mysterious, vaguely occult way Lalondes and cowled superheroes can. Nothing but shadows left.

There's nothing for John to do but walk into the dining room towards his presumably imminent doom.

\---

Dirk underdressed.

He’s wearing the same tank top he did the last five days, for ironic purposes (he’s trying to convince himself as much as everyone he tells that to). Sandals over black-and-orange socks. Jeans, like a demented, fashion-repellant plebian.

(Of course he has his katana too, strapped to his back, because he is not a simpleton. There’s never a time NOT for katanas.)

No underwear. No fucks.

Roxy and Jane both start howling with laughter as soon as they see him, Jane with her formal “ohohohoho” anime chortle, by contrast Roxy snorting with all the grace of a shitting wild pig. Callie stands in between them, giving that confused familiar skull-smile that signals she has no idea what the fuck’s going on.

“Nice to see you too,” Dirk rasps with a sandpaper voice because it’s been probably weeks since he’s last talked out loud, turning around to immediately head back to his house.

“Oh, don’t go yet, chap!!” Jane calls after him, trying to muffle her snortles (snorting chortles) as Roxy rolls -- literally rolling, on the ground, holding her stomach -- and cackles. At the same time, Callie goes, “Don’t go yet, Master Dirk!!!”

Dirk pauses, mostly because he’d feel like even more of an ass walking away from Callie when she’s not laughing at him. “I told you you didn’t need to call me that.”

“Of course, Master Dirk!”

Roxy affectionately boops her. Callie blinks, now more confused but happy.

“I was not aware we were going to a COSTUME party, Dirk,” Jane giggles, “because your cosplay of a COMPLETE DORK is quite effective!!”

“Yeah, you even got the inside out tank top down,” Roxy drawls from the floor.

What. He looks down. There’s a faded label hanging from the front. Fuckdammit. He wore it inside out AND backwards and now he has to convince everyone it was intentional.

“It’s a statement,” he amends weakly.

“On what???”

“Society and how it treats people with no time or patience for fashion.” He narrows his eyes. Jane raises her hands in cheerful surrender.

“Easy, ol chap, we aren’t here to provoke you! Quite the opposite, honestly!” She grins. “It is jolly good to see you again!!” The statement is backed up by an enthusiastic “YEA” from Roxy and a little clap from Callie.

“Thank you,” drones Dirk. “Now get me to that party before my feet automatically walk me back home as they’re programmed to do in stupid social gatherings.”

Roxy and Calliope drag him, giggling, along a beaten path up toward the extremely gothical dark outline of Maryalonde Manor, as Kanaya insists they call it, against the horizon. Dirk’s complaints of why they aren’t just flying are met with Jane calmly refuting, “I don’t think you’ve moved your legs more than once in the past month.” The others’ loud laughter completely overrides his cool, monotone attempt at refute-refutement.

(Of course he’s moved his legs more than once.)

(How else could he move out of the way of an explosion? Honestly.)

\---

AA: all the trolls have arrived

TT: As evidenced by the claw marks on my curtains.

GA: Needless To Say There Will Be Stricter Rules Outlining What Formal Wear Entails

GA: For Example

GA: Clipping Ones Nails And Wearing Something That Doesnt Make You Look Like A Living Technicolor Pincushion

TT: Terezi again?

GA: She Refuses To Take It Off

GA: The Feeling Of Revulsion Has Still Not Left Me

GA: In Fact Some Trolls Did Not Even Bother Wearing Formal Clothing

GA: Like I Had Specifically Outlined

AC: :33< ac was purrity sure her outfit was furmal wear!

AC: :33< it has no blood on it and everything!

GA: You Had One Job

AA: when are the rest of the humans coming rose?

TT: Well, I know all my friends are here.

TT: Messaging Roxy, it seems that she, Callie, Jane, and Dirk are on their way.

AA: what about the adventurer boy

AA: the one with a blue fetish?

TT: He received our invitation. Time has yet to tell when he’ll arrive.

AA: ill say, haha!

GA: Considering The Fallout Between Him And The Dirk Human

GA: Whom I Understand Is His Former Matesprit

GA: Perhaps It Would Be Advantageous For Him To Avoid This Gathering

TT: In any case it will be interesting to see what transpires.

TT: Potentially fatally dangerous, perhaps, but interesting.

\---

His feet prove useful for avoiding anyone and everyone at the party.

“C’moooooon, Dirk,” Roxy pouts as he swerves at a sharp ninety degree angle to avoid two pleasantly chattering figures in the hallway.

“This is the most efficient way.”

“The fuck it is!”

“They’re drawing dicks on the wallpaper.”

“O, fuck.” Roxy peers back over her shoulder. Jane muffles a quiet snortle. “Yea, good point, I don’t wanna be here when Kanaya finds out.”

Dirk barely hears her. The most efficient way to the dining hall is striding (shut up) straight forward from here at a just-fast-enough-to-avoid-conversation pace. There are quick shouts of his name and casual greetings from voices he barely knows, a distant cackle of “M4G3NT4 M4N” coming from the east end of the corridor, but he doesn’t stop.

He bumps past Rose, who flits out of his way in her usual gothic manner, barely noticing her calm wave. The nub-horned troll snarls, “WATCH IT ASSHOLE” before the other Strider, the little carbon copy of Dirk with substantially less cool shades and hair, puts an arm around him and immediately makes him fall silent. (Gay.)

Egbert says something as he passes by.

He doesn’t register.

And just like that -- he’s there. Dining hall. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Hope ya happy with yourself,” Roxy hmmphs. Jane and Callie are filing in behind her, politely letting the consort waiters by. If hmmph wasn’t a verb before, she just made it so. “You didn’t even talk to anyone!”

Drily, he replies, “Is the purpose of a dinner party to sit through tidal waves of idle chit-chat with perfect strangers?”

“Yes!” She blows a little curl of hair that had dislodged from her fancy hair clip out of her face. “We’re supposed to be reconnectin’ with folks, ya know? Get your head outta your antisocial ass.”

“There can be no reconnection between people who haven’t even talked.” He stoically fills himself a cup of apple juice from the indoor fountain. (Even Dirk has to privately admit that this is an excellent investment and notes he should install one of his own.) “I don’t know any of those trolls.”

“I can list them!” Jane cheerfully points out. “Aradia, Tavros, Soll--”

“I know their names,” Dirk sighs. “I meant personality-wise. I don’t remember ever having a conversation with any one of these people in non world-ending circumstances. And most of them are holding lethal weapons.”

“Pardon, Dirk, but would it not benefit you to at least try?” Calliope blinks owlishly. “It is impossible to have a conversation if no one initiates! And the lethal weapons thing is more of a formality anyway.”

She adjusts her green-and-white bowtie. “I have extensive knowledge of the trolls and their habits, as well as individual personalities and preferences! In fact, there is a ‘wikia’--”

“When will it get across to you people that I want to be left alone?” Dirk freezes. Shit. He’d snapped. Now Calliope is frozen mid-sentence, Roxy’s eyes widening, Jane’s eyebrows knitting together.

He should have said something after that. He really tried to force something out. Any combination of words possible to amend his outburst and allow everyone to pretend like nothing was said at all.

But his throat is suddenly as dry and devoid of sound as the vacuum of space, and Dirk remains silent.

Jane moves first. A quiet sigh that’s pure disappointment and makes Dirk’s fragile pride crumble in on itself. Her expression doesn’t change, but somehow, the mood of the whole room does. “Okay. We’ll do that, Dirk.”

Slowly, with a heavy look that gives him goosebumps and makes his intestines knot with guilt, she walks out of the room.

He turns to Roxy. She’s giving him a really strange look that’s half glare and half pity. He wishes she would get angry at him, yell at him or something, but all she does is shake her head and say, “Whatever, Dirky. Have fun with yourself.” before following Jane.

Calliope runs after them, loudly asking what’s wrong and where they’re going, and once her frantic footsteps fade, Dirk is officially alone.

It doesn’t feel nearly as good as he thought it would.

He takes his seat again, nursing his now lukewarm cup, and staring forward with the sound of quiet water rushing filling the room.

\---

The pleasant ding of the dinner bell does absolutely nothing to quell the chaos of the dining hall.

All the trolls are crowded around a large, coffin-shaped table (wow, Rose and Kanaya REALLY let their gothery sink into that one, John thinks), and that means yelling. Even though seating arrangements are made for those most likely to strangle the shit out of each other to be the farthest apart, some of them are still finding ways to torment one another.

Sollux is making Eridan hit himself in the face with his psionics, the seadweller yelling what John assumes are nasty weird-blood-based slurs. Vriska is grinning and launching peas an increasingly miserable-looking Tavros’ face before a scolding Jade baps her on the head and cleans off Tavros with a napkin.

The kids are gathered at their own corner of the table. Dave’s right next to John and Karkat. They’re talking to each other probably about something really really nice because Karkat’s actually smiling.

They’re laughing the way Kanaya and Rose are laughing from the opposite side, rings glinting in the soft glow of the chandelier. Jade’s chair is empty, of course, since she’s now hugging a grateful-looking yet baffled Tavros.

He looks around for Roxy, Jane, and Dirk. He’d seen them earlier! And he spots them -- well, two of them, Roxy and Jane, surrounding Calliope and explaining the history of the portraits all around the room, a wide starry-eyed look on the cherub’s face.

But there are two empty chairs, placed as far away from each other as possible from that side.

After a few more testing rings, the bell is set down before a massive gong blast rattles everyone at the table and the table itself. Several portraits fall. Silence immediately follows.

“Please remain silent,” rasps Equius, lowering his drumsticks (since they’re Equius-sized, they’re more like baseball bats.) “In preparation for the dinner our e%alted hosts have prepared for us. Feel free send them your sa100tations.”

“Thank you, Equius, for bringing out the gong of shame.”

“It is my deepest honor.”

Activity resumes. Now everyone is digging right in.

John can’t help but feel out of place. He examines the fancy plate in front of him as big as his face and the even fancier cutlery surrounding it, counting five spoons. Five! That’s four more than what’s necessary!

Though one of them doesn’t look like a spoon really. More like a...

John has no idea what the fuck is that thing.

“What is this?” He picks it up, examining it under the light of the chandelier (and distant flamethrowers).

“A sporf, John,” replies Rose, in a tone that says of course it is.

John blinks.

“A spoon-fork-knife fusion,” she explains. “Innovative, isn’t it?”

He gasps, looking at the suddenly magical contraption in his hands. That’s so many things in one thing. “Wait, what’s the point of having all these spoons then?”

“Mr. Zahhak insisted.” She points her salad fork at the large, tux-clad troll currently sweating buckets in the presence of the Pisces girl.

“Proper arrangement of utensils is of high importance,” he stammers.

“Continue that, Vriska,” Aradia says cheerfully, “and not a single atom will remain of you.”

“Got it, sis!” Vriska has already acquired a new target and is now launching them at Eridan (who’s still punching himself in the face, now mashing peas with every blow).

“Gee,” mutters John. Troll dinners sure are loud and violent. Just like trolls!

He looks out to the crowd of people. Really they aren’t so different from humans once you get down to it, even with the blood thing and the bloodthirstiness. Humans are shitty like that, just in different ways! They’re aliens, sure, but there’s something familiar about the way they all talk that sort of makes John forget the gray skin and weird eyes and horns.

His friends are here too, also, all mingling with each other so easily. People he’s known for… years, now. Almost a decade.

Then why is it that John can’t seem to talk to any of them?

Dinner suddenly seems unappetizing. John looks down at his food and messes around with it a little with his fork, and says nothing.

\---

Anyone would eventually get fed up with drinking cups of apple juice and analyzing structural differences in the same four walls of a room, even if said walls are rather tastefully decorated. Dirk isn’t an exception to this.

Dirk jolts when he hears the stone gargoyle he’s walking past make a loud static buzzing sound and start talking. His sword has already met its target. It’s already dead.

It’s too late before he realizes it’s just a loudspeaker installed into the mouth -- he’s already cleaved it in half with his sword, the top part of its grotesque head landing at his feet. Whoops. Sorry, Rose.

The gargoyle continues, however, cranking out a static-filled announcement for everybody to head down to the ballroom for a dance. There’s mentions of refreshments somewhere in there too. He didn’t even know they had a ballroom in this place, but of course they do.

Ok. Dirk: analyze. What are the possible drawbacks and average number of casualties if you attend this dance.

Average number, worst case scenario, is all of them if he decides to take the whole mansion with him. Not a desirable outcome. He would rather leave all the chessfolk and consorts in a state of non-extinction. Plus, how is he going to soulsteal an entire mansion?

Best case scenario he’ll only dive out a window and race off into the woods to tend his wounds like some sort of wild animal. An animal oddly well versed in the dimensions of irony, but an animal nonetheless.

Crap.

Dirk very nearly just leaves. It’s not like anyone’s missing him, he hasn’t even shown up to the dinner and that’s at least half the point of a dinner party. What favors is he doing anyone by skulking around in dark, dreary hallways with tasteful lighting like some sort of Edgar Allen Poe stan?

Then he thinks about the look on Calliope’s face, and Jane’s quiet sigh of disappointment, but the flavor of disappointed like “as much as I wish it weren’t the case, I expected this from you”. The one kind that makes Dirk’s skin crawl and prickle with guilt because they expect him to be an asshole and he’s proving them right.

“Have fun with yourself,” Roxy had said.

Incredibly, that’s a more impossible feat than socializing.

Dirk heaves a sigh and with one more cleave at the gargoyle for good measure (no, he’s not frustrated, he’s perfectly happy) he begins heading toward his imminent doom. Just like good old times.

\---

GA: Attention All Appointed Staff Members Who Are Not Equius

GA: Someone Please Clean The Kitchen Of Zahhak Sweat

GA: Equius Is Hereby Banned From Food Preparation Duty

CT: D-> this is outrageous

CT: D-> i demand my position be reissued

GA: Absolutely Not You Behemoth You Will Stay In The Supply Closet You Have Been Banished To

CT: D->

CT: D-> is that an order

GA: Oh My God

\---

John didn’t know the out-of-place feeling could get even worse, but he supposes it’s always a possibility to discover new things.

The ballroom is extra fancy and extra extra large to accommodate the absolutely huge number of guests. (And consorts and chessmen, of course.) Even though 99 percent of the manor is at a relatively consistent level of gothic excellency, the ballroom is tenfold as much so. Massive chandeliers with flickering wisteria flames, carved statues of salamanders that straddle the line between beautiful-beautiful and oh-god-what-the-fuck-is-that-thing-yet-it's-uncannily-mesmerizing-beautiful.

There’s even a ball pit. Despite being the most normal thing in the room, for some reason, it gives him chills.

He’s surrounded by couples (and triples, and some rare quadruples) who are dancing in and out of sync to the music, displaying various degrees of enthusiasm and vigor. Rose and Kanaya are dancing a calm waltz at the top of the stairway, Rose’s head on her wife’s shoulder though she has to discreetly stand on her toes to reach. They look like a Renaissance painting.

Meanwhile Sollux and Aradia are boogying at the lower floor near an overturned wizard statue. Aradia is cheerfully doing the chacha while Sollux mirrors her movements with a completely opposite energy. His face remains stoically miserable even as he gets spun in a circle.

Vriska and Terezi are having an intense breakdancing contest near the refreshments.

Dave and Karkat are kissing at the DJ station and barely trying to be discreet about it.

John is miserable.

He knows he shouldn’t be! There’s no reason he should be unhappy around his friends and family -- the closest thing he has to family now, anyway, the pain in his chest twinges -- and this is the first time he’s seen them in a while! Wasn’t he complaining about that earlier?

No, he hadn’t even wanted to come in the first place. He should have just stayed home. John looks into his cup sullenly, and immediately away when he sees his distorted reflection looking up at him. Why is he being so stupid about this? Stupid, stupid kid. Stupid twenty-year-old kid.

Everybody feels far away, somehow. Sort of like how it felt all those years ago in dream bubbles or on Prospit, hazy and half-conscious and everything around him a blur. Or what it felt like to die, a little bit. But there’s no snarling wolf bashing through the door or any blades ramming through his chest, at least not ones that aren’t metaphorical, so what gives?

John’s fine.

John should be fine, but he isn’t.

He wants to go home.

Someone sits next to him and he jolts, nearly spilling his drink. Jeez! He’d gone off on a tangent there, he chides himself internally, before remembering oh yeah someone’s here and he should probably make conversation. He looks up from the patch of rug he’d been staring at for the last few minutes.

The first thing that strikes him is hair, because it’s white. Silvery, in the purple light from the chandelier. (Neat!) Well, he knows it’s a Strider, because it’s all pointy and anime-esque. Speaking of that, there's a pair of triangular shades perched on his nose reflecting John's own face back at him -- must be none other than Dirk, the one John hasn't talked to since…. uh. Ever.

(For a moment John marvels at how fast his brain can process, digest, and immediately suppress lonely feels when something remotely distracts him. Neat again!)

He isn't really looking at John, which makes the prospect of starting a conversation awkward, so John just kind of sits there with his hands folded awkwardly in his lap. He feels wayy uncool. So uncool he’s probably bringing shame to the Strider family without actually being in it.

He doesn’t know anything really about Dirk other than he’s like an AU version of Dave’s bro, who really is a giant douchebag considering the ways Dave had described him acting. It was really sad hearing Dave talk about that shit because it was just so un-Davelike, the way something visibly crumbled in his expression as he recalled the stories of old scars.

Dave likes Dirk though, evident by the fact that John’s seen them in pictures together. (With the exact same stoic Strider look no matter the background. It’s sort of hilarious.) When Dave goes on rambles he speaks highly of the guy, and as a best bro Dave Strider’s word is nearly always to be trusted. Nearly.

Shit, ramble again! He snaps himself out of it, clearing his throat.

“Uh.”

Great first words there, Egbert.

Dirk turns, peering at him emotionlessly from behind his shades.

John sweats.

“Heyy,” he mumbles, trying to turn on the good ol’ Egbert charm that had netted him at least one friend when he was a kid (well, acquaintance, whatever, he didn’t get beat up so he calls it friendship). It’s hard, especially since his throat is all scratchy and dry no matter how much he clears it.

Dirk looks.. the same. His face barely shifts. “Egbert, right.”

“Yup! That’s me! Joh--”

“John Egbert, yes, I know your name.” John winces. Is he annoyed? He’s annoyed, oh no.

He wonders for a second why Dirk asked his name in the first place if he already knew, but he chalks it up to something about irony.

Just barely behind Dirk’s shades, John can see his pupils darting, fixed on his face. Is he scanning something? Is Dirk secretly a robot? “N-nice to see you again!”

“Nice to meet me, more like,” he comments drily.

“Uh?”

“I don’t think we’ve really talked. At all.”

“Oh!” That is true. Fuck. “Well.. better late than never?” He shoots Dirk a nervous grin.

Dirk pauses. “I… guess.”

Score one for Egbert! He almost does a little dance in his seat. Yes, he’s conversating and being social and definitely isn’t unhappy in any way at all. “Then nice to meet you, Dirk!”

“Nice to meet you, John Egbert.” He talks like he’s in a movie, John notes. No, not exactly. More like someone imitating someone in a movie. Dirk’s voice is stilted and he enunciates things weird, like every sentence is supposed to invoke dramatic tension.

He imagines Dirk saying something mundane like ‘pass the ketchup’ in the same tone and nearly breaks into giggles in front of him.

“So, uh,” John grins, bouncing his feet, “Where’ve… you been? Since, uh. We last met. Or, um, caught glimpses of each other.”

There's some snaps John had seen of him, but they were all Jake's selfies with Dirk happened to be caught in frame. The same surprised, caught-off-guard look on Dirk's face, stark next to Jake's jubilant grin, and he was usually bent over machinery or some dismantled robot. Robots! Dirk's a robot guy, right. He makes a little mental note to use that as a conversation starter sometime.

“Home.”

John blinks. “Home.. and?”

“That’s it,” he responds flatly, reaching over to take a green-frosted (hopefully not grub flavored ew ew ew) donut from the refreshment table.

“Oh.” Well, there’s a thing in common, at least. “Me too, haha..”

“What’s funny about it?”

Caught off guard, John gulps. “Um. Nothing.”

As if confirming suspicions, Dirk nods curtly. “That’s right. The only reason I’m out here is because Roxy dragged me out here, anyway. I have prototypes to work on.”

“Ooh, prototypes? Of what?”

“Things.”

John feels like a fool as he utters his third ‘oh’. Jeez, conversationalist much, he thinks to himself. Dirk seems far more invested in his donut than in what they’re talking about, examining it like it holds an ancient secret.

“Dave dragged me out here,” he giggles nervously, swinging his leg from his perch on the chair. “He was all like ‘go outside’ and I was like ‘ehhhhhh’ but I wasn’t feeling all that great anyway so I was like ‘why not’, you know what I’m saying? (Uh, you probably do.)” Pausing, his smile fades. “I’m sort of regretting it. To be honest.”

“Me too.”

John sighs. “I just… I don’t know what I’m doing here.” He quickly glances over to Dirk to gauge his reaction, plastering on his chipper tone again. “I - I mean, what am I supposed to do with my hands? I can’t waltz like Rose, I’m not a elegant swan man.”

Amazingly, Dirk snorts. John feels pride explode in his chest like a little firework. “You could do whatever those two are doing.” He points.

John follows his gaze to where Dirk is referring to and lets out a loud, unattractive wheeze of laughter at the outlines of Jade and Davepetasprite spinning like tops about fifteen feet above the dance floor, levitating in rapid circles around the chandelier.

Well. At least they’re having fun!

When he looks back Dirk is staring, gaze boring deep into him with a sudden intensity. John feels like a laser is being burned into his forehead. “Uh.”

“Why are you here?”

Confused, John starts repeating what he’d said. “Dave dra--”

“No, why are you here. What made you come.”

Taken aback by the conviction in Dirk’s voice, John recoils. “Um. I just.” Sighing quietly, he lets himself deflate a bit. It feels oddly freeing.

“I mean.. I really do think it's -- good to go out and talk to people sometimes, y’know. Obviously. But you couldn't exactly tell that, the way I was living! I didn't even get out of bed till, like, three in the afternoon the other day, it was crazy.” He lets out a short laugh to himself.

“But, um. That's why, I guess. I.. wanted to see if I could talk to people? I mean -- that sounds obvious!” And stupid. His hands move wildly as he talks as if that can get his point across. “But I don't know how else to -- word.. that.”

Losing his steam, John falls silent again. Does he even know why he's here?

That's… a weird thought.

Scary.

Dirk is quiet for a few weirdly ominous moments (John is briefly reminded of the nights he'd sneak downstairs to watch horror movies and regret it intensely) before making a low hum of acknowledgement.

“It’s just.. everyone here seems to like… know each other so well.” Dirk gives him a Look, one of those capital L looks that makes him realize he’s said something confusing and probably a little dumb. “Like! I know them! Of course I know a lot about Dave since he’s my bro, and Rose and Jade too, haha. I don’t mean like that, I mean…”

The chandelier lights dance off the lens of his glasses, purple and green flashing in his vision. “Rose and Kanaya are married. Dave and Karkat are too, basically. I don’t even know what is up with the quadrant thing with all the trolls but they all seem pretty happy too! Everyone knows each other in that way.” He makes sure to emphasize that, hand gesture included, so Dirk knows what he’s about. “Ya know.”

“I do.” Thank fuck, he gets it.

“Yeah,” John laughs. His own voice sounds desperate. “It’s… weird.”

Dirk: silence.

“It makes me wonder, like, if they -- uh, the trolls -- have any weird.. miscommunicate-y things going on. That doesn’t seem really likely, I mean, they’ve all known each other since they were troll kids, right? I know troll culture is sort of messed up with all the ‘hate and pity’ stuff, but it can’t be that bad between them...”

\--

GA: The Bannister Is On Fire There Are Twelve Bottles Worth Of Peach Scented Bubble Bath In The Upstairs Bathtub And Someone Managed To Draw Human Genitals On Wizard Windelwards Face

GA: One Of My Heels Broke

GA: If This Chaos Continues I Will Have No Choice But To Cut This Party Short

GA: With A Chainsaw

GC: HOT

GA: Not Hot

GA: Stop Drinking Bubble Bath Terezi

\--

“And I'm just, like… jealous of that a bit. That's probably really bad to say.” Why is he still talking? Stop talking, Egbert, you stupid idiot kid. The words just spill out of him faster. “I know I should be talking but it feels like I can’t, everyone just kind of knows each other already and they’re closer than me so I always feel like a third wheel and my hands get sweaty.”

“Lovely detail.”

“Thanks. I just -- I just want someone to fucking talk to, I guess.”

Dirk stares.

“Anyway!” John laughs loudly, stomach turning over. He’s blown it. He’s going home. “I’m just gonna--” He gets up so quick he nearly twists an ankle. He’s going to curl up in his room and never go to anywhere again.

Of course, instead of doing something that wouldn’t give John a heart attack, Dirk just fucking appears in front of him, with only a flicker of movement to warn John in the nanoseconds right before. John almost shrieks. (Almost. Goddamn Striders and those things that they do why do they have to do that.)

“Wait.”

You could have just said that and not jumpscared me to heck and back. John bites back that thought.

“My pesterchum is timaeusTestified.”

“Wuh.”

“Add me.” For the first time, Dirk’s eyes are trained on something other than John (thank fuck), instead he seems to be examining a nail with the same amount of scrutiny. Is he nervous?

“I…” His teeth click as John snaps his mouth shut; he’d realized his jaw was hanging open like a gutted fish. Don’t blow this, idiot! “Oh! Um. Ok! Do you want mine? It’s ectoBiologist, um..”

Something in his pocket vibrates -- his phone. John fumbles to check it, with a stuttered “uh sorry” for sake of politeness, only to see a familiar orange text flash on his screen. (Which hurts his eyes. Ow. It’s too dark in this room and the screen is so bright.)

TT: Already inputted it.

_Wow_. It’s been… literal seconds. He hadn’t even seen Dirk do anything. Robots? Psychic powers? Psychic robots?

Looking up at Dirk, a strange concoction of confusion and awe and vague fear bubbling up in his stomach. It’s a safe bet he’s going to have to get used to that feeling.

The door to the ballroom suddenly bursts open. Someone hisses loudly and leaps up to cling to another, larger figure -- it’s either Nepeta and Equius, or Karkat and Dave. (Assuming from the loud FUCKS coming from the latter two.) John almost drops his cup as he cranes to see who it is.

“Hi, chaps,” Jake beams from the entrance, gold glow from the hallway framing him like a stage light.

The hall goes dead silent (aside from the occasional scuffle from Karkat as he attempts to discreetly climb down Dave’s frame). Jake is starting to look like he rather wouldn’t be here.

“Uhhh….” he chuckles as he nervously scans the cold yellow stares glowing at him from the dark, rubbing his neck. “Tough crowd, hm. Sorry I’m late!”

Dirk stands up.

Jake’s face lights up. “Dirk! Y--”

And there’s a fucking _explosion_.

John barely has any time to register what the fuck has just happened, but there are little bits of plaster and decorative candle pieces raining down on him. Dirk is -- gone. A Dirk-shaped vacuum where he’d literally just been, and --

There’s another Dirk-shaped vacuum, right where there used to be a stained glass window portrait of Senior Viceroy Bubbles Von Salamancer (Casey, going by her proper name). John can see the moon shining through there, it sort of casts this soft glow into the ballroom and a hazy thought brushes through his mind, that maybe Rose and Kanaya should keep it that way cause it sort of adds to that whole mystic-gothical vibe they want going on.

Jake’s expression is equal parts distressed and crestfallen, bits of wall stuck in his hair.

“Holy mackerel,” Jane croaks once she picks her jaw up off the floor, having barged in to inspect the crash. Roxy lets out a loud ‘what the FUCK’ from behind her.

Rose wipes a tear from her eye. “Viceroy..” (“ _Casey_ ,” John mouths with a scowl. Proper name!)

Kanaya, eye twitching, begins striding toward the stairway with a thinly veiled, boiled-over rage that would make -- and is making, judging by the look on his face -- Karkat shit his pants and quake in fear. Every person has a limit and the trampling of the dress code, a bubble bath overflow, a shattered window and now a crying wife seems to be Kanaya’s. Pretty reasonable by John’s standards but it’s still hard not to succumb to the primal urge to run and hide in the nearest crevice facing her gaze.

There’s a honk from the entrance. Eleven pairs of yellow eyes immediately snap over, a few pairs of human ones belatedly following them in the dark.

Gamzee pokes his head in, smiling vacantly with just a hint of confusion in his unfocused gaze. “‘m I late, folks?”

A chainsaw whirr breaks the silence.

Dave grabs John’s shoulder. “ _Run_.”

\---

EB: so it turns out, we ended up setting a house on fire after all haha!

EB: and it wasnt daves fault this time!

EB: im not actually sure who did it thinking more about it

EB: but no one died i think!

EB: not even gamzee somehow and there were chainsaws involved!

EB: so thats what you missed

EB: um i dont know when youll read this but i guess thats a weird sort of recap of the evening, if you need it

EB: not that i really think you need it but in case!

EB: i thought it would be a good conversation starter... which may be why im not very good at holding conversations.

EB: bluh

EB: um anyway that was the night

EB: i had a little fun, i guess. it was very nice seeing everyone again even if i couldnt exactly talk to them or anything or

EB:

EB: well now i have your chumhandle, so maybe ill have someone to talk to!

EB: i mean, i dont know why i would have it if i wasnt going to talk to you

EB: maybe thats a weird hoarding thing, hoarding chumhandles? that sounds like something one of the trolls would do, for some reason

EB: haha

EB: uh

EB: its awkward laughing at my own joke in a conversation in text, i just realized

EB:

EB: talk to you soon! respond when you see this!

EB: if you want!*

   


\-- ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT] at 12:43 --

   


\-- ectoBiologist [EB] is offline! -- 

   


\-- timaeusTestified [TT] is online! -- 

TT: Okay.

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] is offline! -- 

   


**Author's Note:**

> dont forget to like comment and subscribe for more chapters of dork striber and yonathan egbert being emotionally closed off asses thank u v much for reading


End file.
